A Timely Reunion
by Emerald of the Sea
Summary: It's been twenty years since the babysitters left SMS. Now they've been invited to a middle school reunion.
1. Chapter 1

**A Timely Reunion.**

**Disclaimer: The name "Babysitters Club," "BSC" and all characters and place names associated to the series remain the property of Ann M. Martin. I am terrible at thinking up titles, so I apologise for the poor thinking behind the title.**

**Chapter 1**

Nat King Cole crooned quietly from the radio in the background and the kettle was boiling. The toaster pinged to indicate that the bread was toasted. Mary Anne Spier pulled her robe tightly around her as she drew the curtains of her apartment in New York City. The sun beamed in through the window; it was a beautiful spring day, chilly but crisp and fresh.

She quickly buttered her toast and poured out her coffee and went to sit down on the couch, picking up her unopened mail along the way. As she chewed, she sifted through her mail. The New York Times, excellent, she could read that as she drunk her coffee. What a perfect way to spend a lazy Saturday morning. She pulled a face as she opened up her cell phone bill for the month. Texting her sister in California wasn't cheap; she was going to have to make more effort to send emails in future. She tossed a flyer for a new pizza parlour into the bin and put the Sears catalogue on her coffee table for later. She picked up her final type faced letter and smiled as she recognised the Stoneybrook postmark. She opened it up, wondering what it was and grinned as an invitation fell out.

It was a card from her old middle school, an invitation to a twentieth year middle school reunion for the class of 1990. "Twenty years," she marvelled to herself. Had it really been that long since she'd graduated from middle school? At the age of 33, it really had been that long. How the years had flown by.

There was a snuffle by her feet and Mary Anne reached down to pick up her cat, Rory. She perched him on her lap and petted him absentmindly as she thought back to her middle school days. The reunion was scheduled for June 1st. She wondered who would attend. She wondered how people had changed. It would be interesting to see.

She looked around her own flat and smiled wryly to herself. Mary Anne had been the sensible, sensitive girl at school, the cry baby. She'd had friends and had been well liked and was one of the first girls in school to have a steady boyfriend. She had also been picked on and was an easy target for people to mock. She had been quiet and hated confrontation. She was the one that her friends spoke to when they had problems. Good old reliable Mary Anne Spier. She pictured herself back then, hair in braids, knee socks with a sensible skirt and a blouse, mary jane shoes on her feet. She'd been a good student throughout middle school and high school. She got good grades and had dated Logan Bruno during her middle school years. They'd broken up briefly and then got back together during high school. She'd expected to go off to the same college as him. The plan was that he'd get a sport scholarship and she would study English and eventually train to become a teacher. They were to get married after college, have kids and live happily ever after. Funny how things don't always go the way you plan.

She sighed as she thought of her ex boyfriend, her childhood sweetheart and smiled. "I wonder whatever happened to him?" she thought.

Mary Anne had never made it to college. Mary Anne never even said goodbye to Logan. She didn't say goodbye to her friends. She just packed up, kissed her family goodbye and took a train to New York when she graduated from high school. And she'd been here ever since.

She had worked in the local library at the weekends during high school and was able to save money from that and babysitting. She had enough money to rent a room in a New York apartment with four other girls for a couple of months. Her room was small and dark and the apartment was noisy and not in the nicest area, but she enjoyed the freedom of being able to move around as she desired, the apartment was clean and the other girls friendly. She took a job as a waitress in a dingy café to earn enough money to pay the rent. The café was dark and dingy and served basic junk food, but she enjoyed getting to know the regular customers and while she didn't like the job itself, it paid the bills and she was on good terms with the rest of the staff. After paying bills, she spent much of her money on fabrics, beads, ribbons and other beautiful materials and spent many hours at the weekends sewing, creating curtains, beautiful cushions, throws and even the occasional piece of clothing. After months which eventually stretched into years of trying, all the time continuing her work as a waitress, her work was eventually stocked in "The Cove," a spiritual shop selling crystals, incense and other such delights. Her work had started to sell well and she was eventually able to brand her creations "The Mary Anne Range," one of the key features being that every piece was unique. She was now stocked in five different stores and had her own website selling her creations. She had quit her job as a waitress so she could sew full time. She wasn't rich, but she earned enough to rent a small, but pleasant two bedroom flat in the city. She could pay the bills and treat herself to the occasional night out and had recently started to build up a small amount of savings. Everything had fallen into place and she had loved her newly found independence.

She still contacted her family, birthday cards and Christmas cards at the appropriate times of year. Sometimes, she invited Sharon, her stepmother, to come and stay for the weekend. They would catch up over coffee, go for dinner, catch a show and then Sharon would go back to Stoneybrook the next morning. She kept in contact with Dawn, her stepsister over text messages and phone calls. Occasionally, she flew out to California for a long weekend. The closeness that they'd had during their teenage years had long gone, but they were still friends.

Mary Anne's father had died a few years before. Not an old man, but not a young one either. It had been sudden, a stroke seizing him from his family. Richard had been a real family man and should have been enjoying his retirement years with his wife. But life has a cruel way of taking you by surprise. The trip back to Stoneybrook for his funeral was the last time and in fact the only time Mary Anne had been back since high school. She had cried. She had loved her father. But she'd felt no urge to go back for visits prior to that; she had a new life and Stoneybrook was the past. Not a sad one. She liked to look back and smile, but she knew she had left it well behind.

She thought of her old friends at school and wondered what they would look like now. She hadn't stayed in contact. It wasn't that she had hated them, but she had wanted a fresh start. Kristy Thomas still sent her a Christmas card and she returned the favour, but they didn't speak. Sending cards was just a courtesy. Even at her father's funeral, she had just smiled at her old friend in acknowledgement. They were strangers now.

She cupped her hands around her steaming mug of coffee and leant back into the sofa, smiling. She would go to the reunion. Twenty years was a long time and she would like to see how things had changed and see her old friends. She wouldn't stay in contact, but she would show her face. She wanted to show how she had changed. This Mary Anne was still short, still slim and flat chested, but she now carried herself with poise and confidence. Her brown hair was cut into a short, choppy, funky style with golden highlights carefully woven through it. Gone were the preppy skirts, khakis and button down blouses. This Mary Anne wore long, beautiful flowing skirts, with jewelled sandals on her feet, with fitted t-shirts or vests. She might wear stylish, dark blue jeans, carefully fitted to show off her slim figure, paired with a long tunic of swirling colours. When she wore plain jeans and t-shirts, they were paired with a silk scarf around her neck, perhaps another one knotted around her waist as a belt. It was a chic, slightly hippy look. Mary Anne loved it.

Lost in her daydreams, she came too and glanced at the clock hanging from the wall. She had to meet Brian in an hour, she had better get ready. She liked him and wanted to make a good impression. She stood as Rory mewed and jumped off her lap.

Mary Anne Spier, perhaps the least likely of the BSC to be living the single life. "But how I love it," she thought as she dropped her mug in the sink to soa and walked into her bedroom to get ready...

**Thank you for reading the first chapter! It's been a long time since I attempted any fiction, so go easy! **


	2. Chapter 2

**Continuing on…as before, all characters (except made up ones), place names and the name Babysitters Club (BSC) are copyrighted to Ann M. Martin**

**Chapter 2.**

"Happy birthday, sweetheart," whispered Kristy Smith. She lifted the picture of the smiling young girl in the picture and kissed it softly, tears forming in her eyes.

The girl in the picture grinned back. Aged five, frozen in time, she had deep brown eyes and a mischievous smile upon her face. There was a baseball cap perched on her head, a baseball bat in hand.

Like mother, like daughter.

Except Eliza Smith was gone.

"I love you so much, Lizzy," whispered Kristy. She sat on the bed, saying nothing as the silent tears rolled down her cheeks. She felt strong arms around her, stroking her face.

"I miss her too," said Clive, Kristy's husband quietly. "This is her first birthday since she's been gone. We knew it would be hard. It's never going to go away, hon. But we can get through this."

Kristy nodded, the words catching in her throat, "I miss her so much."

"I know, honey. I know. If I could do anything, change anything. I want her back so badly, too."

Clive turned his grieving wife around to face him. He looked at her in the eyes and softly kissed her on the head, before wrapping his arms around her. They stayed like that for a long time, the cruel sounds of heartbreak escaping both of them in the form of tears and loud sobs.

It was hard to believe the emotionally destroyed 33 year old woman was Kristy Thomas, the middle school tomboy. Confident, self assured and bossy, middle school Kristy was a long way from the grieving, hurting woman of today.

She had graduated from high school and had gone on to study at Stamford Medical School. She had studied and trained hard and eventually became a qualified physiotherapist, dealing with a range of sporting injuries. She loved her job and in her spare time continued to coach kids at softball and also played for Stoneybrook Ladies Baseball team. She had caught the eye of the team manager, Clive Smith, an athletic man who taught PE at high school. The rest, as they say is history and they soon fell in love.

Kristy had married him at the age of 26. It had been a spur of the moment decision when they were vacationing in Las Vegas, but one she had never regretted. Her family had been upset at the time, as they had wanted to see their little girl get married, but she knew she had been forgiven when they saw how happy she was. Shortly after, Kristy fell pregnant and nine months later pushed their beautiful daughter, Eliza (Lizzy) Anne Smith into the world.

With their attractive two bedroom cottage with a garden on the outskirts of Stoneybrook, a beautiful baby girl and a handsome, caring husband, it seemed that Kristy had everything. She did not return to work, preferring to remain a "stay at home mom" and relish every moment spent with Lizzy, although she did return to coaching softball at the weekends.

She was thankful she had made the choice to stay at home and care for Lizzy.

Then one day, in a short moment, Kristy's life came tumbling down and nothing would ever be the same again.

It had happened six months ago, though Kristy could replay every moment perfectly and would continue to do so for years to come.

Lizzy was five years of age. She was a sweet and generally well behaved little girl, although sparks of independence were starting to show through. Kristy had taken her to the doctor for a check up. They were driving home when Lizzy had asked if they could stop for an ice-cream.

"No," Kristy had replied. "It's nearly dinnertime, sweetie."

She should have stopped. She should have made a detour for ice-cream. It would have given them a few extra minutes. They would have missed the accident.

They would have missed the souped-up looking Ford cruising through the traffic. They wouldn't have been caught up when it tried to overtake three cars at once, her car being the last of the three. Then the car wouldn't have been clipped on the side and spun off the road.

Kristy can remember it so vividly. The screams erupting from her mouth and Lizzy's, both joining to make one haunting noise. She'd struggled with the steering wheel and tried to remain on the road, but it was a futile attempt. Her life had flashed before her eyes and she'd tried to shield Lizzy's face with her arms, in a useless attempt to protect her from the flying glass.

There had been a thud. Then another one. Kristy was dizzy and disorientated. She wondered why she was upside down. Then she realised that the car was rolling over. She tried to reach out for her little girl, to try and protect her. Then everything had gone black.

She'd awoken to the sounds of mans voice saying over and over again, "Can you hear me? Wake up for me." She was being slapped on the cheek. She wondered what had happened. Then suddenly it came to her and she forced her eyes awake.

"Come on, give me your hand. Stay with me. My name's Bill. I'm a paramedic and I'm going to make sure you're ok when the firemen cut you free."

"My baby!" gasped Kristy, in a sudden burst of energy. "Where is she?"

"Kristy…" Bill looked at her, pained. "We'll get you out of here soon."

"Where is she?" screamed Kristy.

Bill chewed his lip. "Kristy…" he said again.

"She's dead, isn't she?" The look in Bill's face told her the answer.

And that had been the moment that the spark inside Kristy Thomas had died.

Clive lifted his head. "I think maybe today is the day."

Kristy knew what he meant. It was a beautiful day. Lizzy would have loved to have played in the park and visited the ducks at the pond. She'd loved ducks.

"The pond," she had said quietly.

Clive looked at her, and nodded his head, his dark eyes tinged with sadness.

Hand in hand, they got up and walked into the living room where they picked up the urn from the mantelpiece.

"Our daughter," thought Kristy. She didn't want to let her go, but took some peace in the fact that she could play with the ducks at the pond in the park she'd loved so much. It was the perfect place for her daughter's ashes to be scattered.

As they left through the front door, Clive carelessly tossed that day's mail to the side, among them a type faced envelope. The mail could be opened later.

Today was the day that they would lay their daughter to rest and celebrate her short life. Perhaps then they could slowly start to rebuild theirs.


	3. Chapter 3

**Continuing on…as before, all characters (except made up ones), place names and the name Babysitters Club (BSC) are copyrighted to Ann M. Martin**

**Chapter 3**

"Oh my god!" gasped Anastasia (Stacey) Black.

"Honey, is everything ok?"

Stacey gazed at the stick in hand, barely able to believe it. A wide grin spread over her pretty face as tears of joy formed in her eyes. "Come here," she called to her husband.

Pete Black thundered up the stairs, into the bathroom. He looked into his wife's large blue eyes, brimming with tears as she laughed with delight. A grin of his own spread over his handsome face and he took her into his arms.

"We're having a baby!"

As the happy couple held each other in delight, Stacey couldn't stop the beam from spreading across her face. She had been married to Pete, her friend from middle school, for ten years now. They hadn't felt ready for children before though as Stacey still felt too young. She wanted to enjoy her marriage and career before starting a family. Now, her business was doing well and could survive without her, she felt that the time was right.

There was a thud at the door of their house, as the mail crashed through the letterbox, interrupting her thoughts. Pete kissed her on the head.

"I'll go and get that honey. I'll make a reservation for dinner tonight as well – we should celebrate."

Stacey walked into the study to telephone her parents to let them know the good news. She knew she should wait until the three month mark had passed, but she was so excited. As she flicked through her phonebook, her eyes rested on the name "Claudia Kishi" as she turned the pages. She smiled as she thought of her old school friend. They'd stayed in touch throughout college and still remained good friends today, despite Claudia settling on the other side of the world. Stacey decided to share the news with him, making a mental note to email her later on that day.

"Honey? Here's your mail." Pete dropped a couple of envelopes onto the computer desk. She picked them up and was pleased to receive an invitation to the Chicago Fashion Awards. She put the card in her diary, making a note to confirm her attendance.

Stacey had always expected to go into the fashion industry and sure enough, that was where she had ended up, though not quite in the way she had expected. Stacey had expected to be a model, with her tall, slim figure. She had perfect skin, big blue eyes and lovely straight, even white teeth. However, after attending auditions at the weekends, the trips funded by her lowly wages as an accounts clerk, it soon became apparent that after all the rejections, she wasn't going to make it as a model. "Too wholesome." "Too girl next door." "Too boring." She had been offended by that one. She knew she was an attractive girl with a sense of style. They had quickly assured her that she was a pretty girl, but not what they were looking for. They wanted something quirky.

It was a surprising choice for Stacey, but once she realised that she was never going to model, she set her sites upon working for the other side. She applied for many jobs within the industry and was eventually employed as an assistant booker for "Fresh Models." She enjoyed her job and was promoted to booker before being headhunted to "Modelling Zone" as a scout a year later. It was a bitchy industry and she sometimes felt bad about turning girls away, especially after remembering her hurt, but by the same admission, she got a thrill out of spotting potential new models and making their dreams come true.

That was the same year she had married Pete Black. They had been friends throughout middle school, before starting to date in their senior year of high school. They had both been accepted into the same college in Chicago, studying a degree in accountancy. Stacey smiled wryly; she had never actually had a use for her degree. After graduating from college, they chose to stay in Chicago, renting a small flat together. Pete had been taken on at "Fletcher & Sons" as a junior accountant and had stayed there ever since, making his way to the heights of partner.

It was thanks to their jobs that they had been able to buy a house in the suburbs. Now, both commuted into the city everyday. It was also thanks to their jobs that they were able to build up some savings. Stacey had decided three years ago to establish her own modelling agency. It had been a hard slog to start with as she worked fifteen hours days, ensuring the agency was run and then keeping the books up to date in the evenings. She had no employees back then. She had to admit it had been worth it though, as it was now one of the most successful agencies in the USA. She had fifteen members of staff working for her and top name models on her books. It now ran itself very well and she only went into the office once a week to keep an eye over things. She maintained the accounts from home. She had been thinking about expanding out to the west coast, but admitted to herself that she would have to put that plan on hold now that she was pregnant. It wasn't the path in the industry that she had expected to take, but she loved it all the same. Most of all, she loved the feeling of being a successful businesswoman.

She picked up the other letter. She furrowed her brow as she read the "Stoneybrook" postmark. She hadn't been back there since high school. After she had moved to Chicago for college, her mother had decided to move back to New York City. Pete's parents were now based in Stamford. It wasn't far from Stoneybook, but they had no need to visit the town when they went to stay with his parents. "Who could be writing to me?" she thought, as she opened the type faced letter. The only friend she had kept in touch with from back then was Claudia.

A card fell out onto the floor. Stacey picked it up and gasped as she read about the SMS reunion. She felt butterflies in her stomach and smiled. She'd had some rough times back then, but she had made some friends too. She was no longer in contact with most of them, but she still had fond memories.

Pete walked into the room. "Did you get a reunion invite?"

Stacey looked up and grinned. "Yes! We are going, right?"

Pete looked concerned. "I'd love to. I'd love to see what happened to everyone. But are you sure you'll be up to it what with being pregnant and then your diabetes?"

Stacey rolled her eyes. She felt like she was 13 years old again. "I'm pregnant, not an invalid. I'll only be about four months gone."

Pete grinned suddenly. "You always were the most popular girl in school, Anastasia McGill. I bet everyone will be shocked to hear that we're married and you're carrying my child."

Stacey elbowed him. "Watch it. I'll run off with Cary Retlin."

Pete gazed at her, with love in his eyes. "You better not."

He held his arms out to her and she nestled inside them. Right now, for Stacey Black, everything was perfect.

And she couldn't wait to tell her parents they were about to become grandparents.


	4. Chapter 4

**Continuing on…as before, all characters (except made up ones), place names and the name Babysitters Club (BSC) are copyrighted to Ann M. Martin**

**Chapter 4**

The room was silent, except for the eerie, mechanical sound of a machine beeping routinely.

Beep.

Beep.

Beep.

An hour, later it continued.

Beep.

Beep.

Beep.

A consultant walked into the room, his face serious and tired, and his coat pristine and blindingly white. He often wondered quietly to himself why everything in a hospital had to be so white.

He gazed at the motionless figured lying in the bed, wired up to the machines. His gaze shifted to the exhausted woman, sat on a chair, her head resting on her arms as she slouched forward over the bed.

He cleared his throat. "Ms. Stevenson?"

The woman jerked awake, startled. She quickly sat up, flustered.

"I'm sorry."

He held up his hand. "Please, no need to apologise. It's been a terrible time for you. I've noticed you always here. Have you been home?

Anna Stevenson shook her head. "She needs me."

The consultant walked over and sat down beside her. He held out his hand. "Doctor Max Powell."

She shook his hand limply. "Anna Stevenson."

"Pleasure. How are you bearing up, Anna?"

It was a pointless question. Her curly hair hung lankly around her pale face, her eyes illuminated by the deep, dark shadows underneath them. Her blazer jacket hung over the back of her chair and her tailored white shirt was creased. Her eyes began to well up.

"She's my twin. We had a fight. I never apologised. Now…now I may never be able to."

"She's a very sick lady, Anna. Would it help if you told me what happened?"

"She's a cop. She was chasing a drunk driver."

Dr. Powell nodded gently. "And she's an asthma sufferer?" he gently pressed.

Anna nodded. "She was driving and felt an attack coming on. Her colleague scrabbled for her inhaler. The drunk driver knew he was being chased. He saw his chance. He probably just wanted to stop them, probably didn't want to cause harm. So, he suddenly stopped. The police car ploughed straight into the back. Two people died. He died. Abby's colleague died. Abby was thrown from the car. Two people, maybe a third, dead. And for what? Why?"

A fresh flood of tears cascaded down her pale, tear stained face. "She'll never know I was sorry. Dad was already taken from me this way. I can't do this. I can't let her go. Please. Save her."

Dr. Powell took her hand. "Do you have anyone who can be with you?"

Anna nodded, showing him her left hand. "My fiancée. He's on a business trip. I convinced him not to come back."

"I think you could use the support right now, Anna."

"Anthony, my fiancée, is the reason we fought. I don't think Abby would approve right now."

"Anna, this might be about Abby, but you need to look after yourself at this time. Especially now as I have a proposal to put to you."

Anna looked up, stroking her sisters limp hand.

"Anna, as you know, Abby is in a coma and a ventilator is breathing for her. You've kept a bedside vigil for a few days now. I'm sure you've been told that the longer someone remains in a coma, the less likely that they'll come out of it without brain damage, that is if they come out of it at all.

Other than bruising and cuts, Abby's injuries were mostly to her head. Brains are very complex and we won't know the full extent of the damage, until she is conscious. The best way of prompting the process along a bit is to take her off of the ventilator. I believe that she is strong enough now to breathe on her own. This, in turn, will hopefully trigger off the process which will cause her to wake up.

There are risks, Anna, there always are in these sorts of cases. She might not wake up. She might not breathe on her own. But this is her best hope. But I need you to be strong Anna and I need your consent."

Anna stared at him, wide eyed and lost. Her thoughts jumbled around in her head. Her daddy dead when she was just 9. Her mother had died that previous year after a heart attack. She couldn't bear to lose her twin.

"Anna?"

Anna stared at him.

"Anna, I suggest you go home. Abby is in the best care and I assure you that her condition will not change in the next few hours. Go home, shower and take a nap. Call your fiancée. Then come back and I will discuss this with you again. Is that ok?"

Numbly, Anna nodded. She leaned over and gently kissed her sister. "I'll be back soon," she whispered.

Anna didn't remember the drive home. She let herself in the front door at her home in Chicago. She kicked her way through the pile of mail, bills, magazines and a type set envelope with a Stoneybrook postmark. None of it was important. It could all wait. Only Abby was important now.

She dialled Anthony's number. "Honey? Call me. They want to take her off the ventilator." She hung up, knowing that her call would not be returned, part of her relieved he probably wouldn't come home until the trip was over. It bought her time away from his rough hands.

She peeled off her suit and lay down on the couch, tears prickling at her eyes as her lids crashed shut. Her last thought was of Abby.


	5. Chapter 5

**Hi everyone, as before, all characters owned by AMM, everything else invented by me. Enjoy. Here's Claudia. **

Claudia Kishi pushed her glasses up her nose and leaned forward at the computer screen. Her tongue was stuck out in concentration.

"You look so hot when you're concentrating, "a voice interrupted her.

She jumped. "You ass! You just ruined my mornings' work!"

She turned and looked into the handsome face of Gareth Jones, her work colleague and close friend. She smiled when she thought of the fact that they were friends – they started off talking to each other when they realised that neither of the other spoke Japanese.

This wouldn't be a problem, except they both worked for Tinendo, one of the world's leading gaming companies and were based in Japan. However, five years later, both spoke adequate Japanese.

They had started work on the same day, both having studied graphic design and both taken on as trainee graphics designers. Japan was quite a change from sleepy Stoneybrook, Tokyo to be exact. It was a long way to move, but Claudia had always known that she would spread her wings and fly away.

Gareth was from England, the Cathedral City of Truro, in Cornwall. Claudia always laughed when she saw pictures of the place. City? It was a town!

He leaned over now and tugged at her long hair. "Whatcha doing?"

She swivelled around on her chair and removed her glasses, fixing Gareth with a stare. "I WAS working on that new sprite for the new RPG."

"It was crap anyway. I did you a favour."

"GARETH!" she swiped at him.

"Oh come on, like the head team were ever gonna accept that!"

There was a clearing of a throat behind them. Mr. Takshi, Head of Character Development on the Project X RPG, stood up. "Why we employ children? Go have a break."

"Tak, he started it," whined Claudia.

Mr Takshi smiled witheringly. "Children. Why? Why we employ? Must be mad. Go have coffee break. And bring one back."

The pair of them walked side by side to the canteen. "Jesus, how old are you? 34, going on 12?" grumbled Claudia.

Gareth pulled her hair again. "You love me really."

"Piss off."

"You love me, you want to kiss me, you want to touch me."

"Piss off."

"You want to have my babies."

"Piss off."

"You want to come to dinner with me tonight."

Claudia rolled her eyes. "Fine. 8pm?"

Gareth blanched. "Huh?"

"Jesus Gareth, do you want to take me out or not? You've been haranguing me for the past five years!"

He nodded. "How about 'Ye Olde Irish Tavern?' "

"That Irish pub?"

He looked defensive. "They do great steak!"

Claudia grinned. She may be living in Japan, but she still loved a good hearty steak.

He looked at her. "See you later?"

"Sure, I'll meet you outside there," she tossed her hair and sauntered off back to her desk, leaving Gareth staring after her.

She sat down and logged into her email, giggling quietly. Gareth had always pursued her and she'd always rebuffed him. She wasn't sure what possessed her to go out with him tonight, but it had been fun catching him off guard and he was a nice guy, not to mention being good looking. She felt like she was back in middle school.

An email from her old friend, Stacey nee McGill, Black, popped up. She opened it up.

"Claud!

Big news. Big humongous news! Oh my god, I am talking like an over excitable kids, but who cares.

I'm pregnant. I'm going to have a baby!

I'll try and catch you on Skype over the next few days so we can catch up properly, but I just couldn't wait that long to tell you! I'm hoping you'll be godmother, please say yes?

Speak spoon, honey!

Luv,

Stace

PS – Did you get your invite yet for the middle school reunion? I guess it might take a little longer for you to get yours, being that your in buzzy Tokyo! Hope you'll go, would be sweet to see you, but I understand.

Signing off….again!

Luv ya! "

Claudia leaned back in her chair. She grinned and let out a shriek.

Mr. Takshi looked up again and gave an exasperated sigh. "Crazy American! Go home!"

She danced over and gave him a kiss. "Pregnant friend. And I have a date. See you in the morning, Tak!"

He smiled. "See you tomorrow, crazy American."

Claudia danced her way out of the office headquarters, pausing briefly to text Gareth. "See ya later, sucker"' She bowed down to the security guards, guarding the front door and danced off down the street, ignoring the stares of people looking at her.

Claudia Kishi, underachiever?

Claudia Kishi, hot-shot graphics designer, in Tokyo. And life was just fine.


	6. Chapter 6

**Hi everyone. Glad you all seem to be enjoying this so far. I'm having a lot of fun with it, exploring the characters. So much fun, that while this is a reunion story where each character has their own chapter before a final chapter, I am thinking of using this as a basis to do a mini-series after, with a story for each character. Let me know what you think. I hope the jobs are believable – in some respects, it would have been too cliché to have Claudia as an artist etc, so I've tried to keep them in character, but with twists, eg, Claudia the Graphics Designer, Stacey the Model Scout…**

**Original characters copyrighted AMM. Enjoy.**

Brett popped his head around the office door. "Hey chick! How are the menus for the next month coming along?"

Dawn Schafer looked up. "I'm your boss! You're my employee! You know anywhere else wouldn't stand for the 'chick' comments," she jokingly chastised, her smiling face framed by her short, blonde crop of her and big blue eyes twinkling in a grin.

Brett grinned back. "Dean's a lucky guy."

"And I'm a lucky girl."

"Sure are. That butt is to die for!" Brett swooned.

Dawn raised an eyebrow. "I know.But, my hubby-to-be is not gay. So you lose. Sorry hun!"

Brett perched himself down on the edge of Dawn's desk. "Can't blame a guy for trying. Where have all the nice guys gone? Anyway, menus, Madame Boss!"

Dawn cringed. "Sweetie, do you HAVE to be so camp?"

"Yes."

Dawn sighed and raised her eyes to look around her office. 'Come here.'

Dawn Schafer was the founder, owner and manager of 'Sunshine Saloon,' a healthy eating diner/restaurant, located on the beach. It was pretty, relaxed, light and airy, ideal for a relaxed dining experience or enjoying a bottle of wine with friends. The menus were produced on recycled paper, the food organically grown and sourced. It had a rolling menu, which meant that the menu changed every month, in addition to the daily specials, ensuring that it never became dull and that only seasonal produce was used. It had been a risk, giving up her job as a dietician and re mortgaging her apartment in order to get the funding to set up, but a move that had been worth it. She now employed Brett, the gay but cheesy chef and three waitresses, in addition to a second chef. The diner had been mentioned in the 'Palo City Press' and received fine reviews; she was now thinking she may have to employ a couple of extra waitresses to cope with the demand.

She'd met Dean, a high school teacher, when he'd called in one evening for something to eat on his way from the gym. He'd spotted her, sitting on her own in the corner, poking at a salad while sifting through some invoices. He'd sat down next to her, struck by her sparkling blue eyes, distracting her from her work. She'd gone back to his house that night.

Six weeks later, she'd moved in and was engaged to him.

She'd kept her apartment. She had figured it was a good investment to keep a second property, toying with the idea of renting it out to visitors during summer months. She also liked the freedom of being able to go there for a couple of hours if she just wanted space. Dean understood, assured her that there was no reason for her to let it go. One of the things that he loved about her was her independence. And she loved him for his gentleness and relaxed manner.

Of course, the toned and tanned physique he boasted due to his gym activities three times a week, the smouldering dark eyes and sunbleached hair also helped.

She jumped out of her daydream.

"Ok, this is what I was thinking…" she spread the menu plan in front of her for the next month.

Brett looked over her shoulder, nodding, offering suggestions here and there. It was a good menu, the locally sourced and organic produce kept in season, served simply to keep it light and refreshing. That month's menu featured a selection of salads, grilled fish dishes, soups and light pastries, with a selection of fruits and sorbets featuring heavily on the dessert menu.

"Looks great," Brett approved. "How about changing the sundried tomato soup to sundried tomato and basil?"

"Great idea," Dawn scribbled it in. "Happy?"

"Yep."

"Excellent." She looked up at Brett. "Are you happy here?" she asked suddenly.

"Sure am, hon."

She fixed him with a gaze. "I know you enjoy working here, but you're pretty creative…are you sure you're happy?"

Brett held her gaze. "Look, chick. I am happy here. My only gripe, if anything, is I wish you'd let me set the menus sometimes. I AM the chef."

Dawn nodded. She'd suspected as much.

Her cell phone buzzed, the name Mary Anne flashing up on the screen.

"Two secs sweets, I should take this."

She opened up her cell phone, "Hi!" She tried to contain a giggle as Brett started to plait his hair. She really loved Brett. Not many people would be able to work with their best friends, but it worked. He'd started off as an employee, but several late nights on the town after work had seen their friendship cemented.

"Hi Dawn!" chirped Mary Anne down the phone.

"Hey girl! I thought you were trying to watch that phone bill?"

"Yeah…I am. I was just wondering if you were coming back for the SMS reunion?"

Dawn knotted her brow. "What reunion?"

"Oh…well I guess you're in California. It may take a little longer to get to you. I just got my invite yesterday."

"Right…listen, I'll give you a call when I get it and let you know. I guess it could be fun."

"Alright. Later."

Dawn hung up. "What are you doing?!" she expostulated.

Brett had successfully plaited his long hair and was now piling the braids on top of his head.

"What?" he said defensively.

Dawn looked at him. "If I can't trust you to have a sensible hairstyle for work, how can I trust you to run the restaurant if I go back for this reunion? IF I get an invite."

He looked at her. She winked back.

"Well, me and Dean are going to get around to getting married eventually…when we plan it. I'll need someone to run the place then while I'm on my honeymoon….may as well have a practise run. What do you say?"

"Even menus?"

"Even menus."

"WOOHOO!" Brett kicked his legs into the air and grabbed hold of Dawn.

"Brett!"

He planted a huge kiss on her lips. "One for you and one for your glorious man!" he said, giving her another.

"Brett, you do realise this isn't definite?"

"Details, details! I'm outty!"

With a wave, he danced out the door.

Dawn sat in bemusement, a smile creeping over her face. He was a good guy. He deserved the chance to further his career and this was a good time for her to start taking more of a back seat. The reunion would be a good practise run for him to see if he could cope.

It would be interesting to pick up the long forgotten memories. She wondered what had happened to everyone.


	7. Chapter 7

**Carrying on….yes, I know there seems to be a theme going here after the last chapter, but never mind. I know I'm touching on some sensitive issues, but I'm not trying to offend anybody. All original characters copyrighted to AMM.**

**Edit: Just realised I had two guys called Dean in this, so have changed the name. And thanks 'anon' for pointing out the typo ******

Logan Bruno rolled his eyes. "Big mac and fries, to go please."

"Excuse me?"

"A big mac and fries to go," he repeated, emphasising each word.

"One moment."

Logan drummed his fingers impatiently on the counter of Macdonalds, tuning out the sounds of horns honking outside, as cars and buses slowly dwindled their way up the streets, during London lunch hour.

The young man serving him came back with his manager.

"Yes sir, what may I get you?"

Logan mentally counted to ten. "A big mac and fries, please."

The manager appeared blank. "A coke and fries?"

"No! Look, just forget it."

Logan rolled his eyes as he stormed out. Jesus. He only wanted something to eat. He thundered his way down Oxford Street, turning down Regent Street and then Carnegie Mews as he bumped into disgruntled tourists.

He keyed in his code to the office and let himself in, throwing his satchel down at his desk.

His colleague, Sean, looked up. "Woah man, what's the craic with you?" he asked, in his Irish lilt.

"I asked, like, a thousand times for a friggin' burger in Maccy D's and they still didn't understand me."

"So where's the burger?"

Logan glared at him.

"Chill man, they just don't understand the accent."

"I speak better English than they do! I'm American, not from Mars!"

"Ahm frahm Amay-ree-ca," mimicked Sean.

"Shut the fuck up," muttered Logan.

Sean punched him playfully. "Just messin' with ya."

Logan raised an eyebrow. "You wish."

"Drinks tonight?"

"Sure."

"Excellent. Dress sexy," Sean winked.

"Gay lord."

"Speak for yourself, butt cheeks!"

Logan smirked. All those hours working out in the gym kept his body in great shape, just as good as when it was in high school and college, playing football. The football days were a long way away now. Logan had got a football scholarship to Stamford College. He had been full of hopes and dreams, but at the age of 20, he had quit the sport.

Only he knew why.

Football was rough. Tough. Commonly looked at upon as a 'mans sport.'

Logan Bruno may have been all man. But he was also gay. He'd never experienced the 'small town' fear of the unknown before. Stoneybrook and Stamford were afraid of the unknown.

It'd been planned out. He was going to go to college with Mary-Ann, his high school girlfriend. But, she'd packed up and gone to New York. No goodbyes. Just gone.

It was strange. He had been hurt, but he had been hurt over the fact she didn't say goodbye. He wasn't hurt over the breakdown of his relationship with her. He felt relief, though he couldn't think exactly why at the time.

He realised why though, when he started college. Couldn't get excited over college girls. Had sex because he felt he had to, not because he really felt anything.

Then one night, a drunken night at a frat party, his friend, Jake had kissed him. Logan was momentarily shocked, but kissed him back. And he liked it. He realised then that it was men he liked. Not women.

Word got around about Logan and that small town fear emerged. It reminded him of the time that his old friend from middle school, the black girl, had moved to the area and experienced hostility. But, he'd never experienced it first hand.

Anonymous notes, car tires punctured. Clothes torn up. Pink thongs hanging on his dorm room door handle.

The taunts from his fellow team mates became too much to handle. The final humiliation came one Halloween. He still couldn't talk about it, kept it a secret from his family. Not that he spoke to his family anymore – they'd disowned him when he revealed his secret.

That Halloween, he'd been subjected to ultimate in degrading and humiliating torture. He'd been found the next morning by the groundsman, handcuffed to a post on the football ground. He was naked, shivering and covered in tar, his nose broken and his eye a swollen purple mound.

He hadn't pressed charges.

But that was the last day he'd spent in college in Stamford. He'd quit his course and his scholarship. Instead, he transferred to the University of London, choosing to study marketing instead, opting for a fresh start.

He'd stayed there ever since.

Now, he worked for 'Chilli Taste' an advertising and PR agency, in London, as Marketing Executive. He rented a studio flat in Fulham and was happy. He partied hard with Sean, his colleague at work. As another single gay in London, he knew the places to party and often crashed at Logan's. Logan really loved Sean. There was a time when something may have happened, but that moment had passed and Logan had long resigned it to something that may have happened in another lifetime. But, to coin a phrase, they were 'BFF.'

"Dude," Sean threw a paper cup at his head. "Answer that damn phone or put it on answer."

"Loser,'" replied Logan, diverting it to Sean's phone instead, sniggering to himself.

He reached into his satchel and pulled out that mornings post. He sifted through them, discarding the various bills to worry about a later date, eventually reaching for an envelope with a 'Stoneybrook' postmark.

He froze. He hadn't heard from anyone in Stoneybrook for years. He opened up the envelope.

An invitation to a middle school reunion fell out. Logan froze, then smiled. He wouldn't go, but he had fond memories. No doubt they'd all heard about him and tainted him with the same brush as everyone else. He was sure he wouldn't be welcome.

But he scheduled it into his diary, just in case.

And then flicked an elastic band at Sean.


	8. Chapter 8

Hi everyone, sorry about the slow update

**Hi everyone, sorry about the slow update. I know it's a short chapter. It was going to be longer, but I liked the way the last sentence read and didn't want to ruin it, by adding to it. I know this chapter may seem sad, but it's not supposed to be – it's also meant to be about hope and still finding happiness. I'm hoping it will tie in with the next chapter, before I start to wrap things up. Enjoy. As always, characters copyrighted to AMM.**

Rebecca Ramsey-Smith paused at her computer and looked out the window, as the sun shone in. It was a beautiful day and she smiled. A butterfly flew by outside. Jessi loved butterflies.

Rebecca looked at the framed photograph on her desk. A beautiful, smiling girl was looking back at her. Her sister, Jessi.

"Hey Jessi, I saw a butterfly flutter by," she giggled as she realised how ridiculous those words sounded. "So, I thought I'd say hi. It's a beautiful day today, one of those days where you're glad to be alive." She sighed wistfully. "Do you remember when we were kids? You would have set up the sprinkler system for me and JP to play under. Fun times, huh? JP's good, by the way. He's got a new girlfriend. She's kinda young, only 18, but she's nice. He was pissed at me when I told her how we used to call him Squirt. She just laughed. I think she'll be around a while. Anyway sis, I gotta get back to work. I miss you."

Rebecca stared back at her computer screen. She felt sad but she also felt peaceful, knowing that her current career path would keep Jessi's spirit alive. Deep down though, Rebecca knew that Jessi's spirit would never die. Even in those last dark days, when she realised she would not win her fight against leukaemia, she continued to smile, to laugh and make jokes. Already slender and graceful, thanks to her many years of ballet training and then later a stint with the Royal Ballet Company in Britain, the deadly disease had withered her body away to the frailties' normally seen in an old woman. But still her eyes sparkled and danced.

Jessi had enjoyed life and wasn't afraid of death. She used to talk of being able to dance again and being able to teach her siblings to dance in heaven, her baby brother and sister who hadn't been born alive. Rebecca took comfort in this; it made her smile to think of her family dancing together.

Rebecca had been working as an Admin Officer within an engineering firm. The pay was decent, but she was bored. Jessi had told her to embrace life and live the way she wanted. After Jessi had passed away, Rebecca decided that a Charitable Trust should be set up in her memory. She had spent many sleepless nights discussing it with her husband, Raymond Smith and with his support, decided to quit her job to set it up.

She named it "Jessi's Everlasting Dance."


	9. Chapter 9

**Once again, sorry about the late update. I lost my drive on this one a bit, but I am going to finish it! I'm a bit concerned about this chapter as it seems boring, so it could well be amended in future. Thank you to all the reviewers and kind words and constructive advice. I've done some one-shots as well, and I'd really love it if you could check those out. Reading back, I have noticed some silly typos here and there, so I will fix those, at some point. Anyway, as always, original characters and place names copyright of AMM. **

"Alright, Becca. Sure. I'll email you those documents. Yep. Uh-huh. Sure. Give my love to everyone. Alright, then. Later."

Mallory Pike hung up the phone in her office and gazed around the room, before turning back to her computer. Notes, letters and photographs of students were pinned to the various bulletin boards dotting her office walls. If you had asked Mallory what she thought of SMS twenty years ago, she would have told you she hated it. So much so, that she changed schools. She would have told you that she wanted to be an author of books for children. Mal never thought she would step foot back in SMS.

Instead, she was a counsellor at the school that made her eleventh year so miserable. This happy and self confident Mallory was unrecognisable from the Mallory of her childhood. Her face had grown into the nose that she despised so much when she was young. Still big, but it suited her face. As her parents had promised, she had been allowed to get contact lenses at the age of fourteen; however several nasty eye infections had seen her give up. Instead, she wore stylish, black square lenses, with a little eyeliner bringing out the blue in her eyes. Her once wild red hair now hung down her back, sleek and straight, contrasting with her porcelain like complexion. No supermodel, but certainly she had turned into a swan. She spoke clearly and confidently and no one would believe that this young woman had once been so badly victimised.

In a way, Mallory was now grateful for the 'Spaz Girl' era in her life. Although attending Riverbend was the best choice she ever made in her adolescent years, she knew that she never should have had to make the choice in the first place, had she not been so heavily victimised and got the help she needed. She wanted to help other kids with problems, who were being picked on, who felt ignored, and who just needed someone to listen to them. And when she noticed the advert for a counsellor at SMS on a visit to her parents four years back, she felt that it was fate. She left her job as a marketing assistant in Massachusetts, a job that paid the bills but gave her no satisfaction and resumed her old Stoneybrook life. She still liked to write, penning a daily internet blog, but she no longer harboured dreams of becoming an author. She had found her calling as a counsellor.

Mallory was no longer in contact with the girls of the BSC. She had been the first to drift after she went off to Riverbend and then the friendships just quietly disintegrated, until she was left with childhood memories. All the friendships, except Jessica Ramsey's.

Mallory and Jessi had the type of special friendship which stood the test of time. Even when they were in different cities, different counties, even different continents, whenever they saw each other, they picked up where they left off.

Mallory's heart had broken when Jessi succumbed to leukaemia.

After she had hung up on Becca, she'd felt a strange mix of emotions. Happy, to have known Jessi, sad because she was no longer there. Although Jessi had left the school so many years before, she was an ex-student the school had remained proud of, her picture hanging in the ex-students wall of fame, along with a successful novelist, a script writer and an Olympic gold medallist; all students the school used to boast about.

The phone call to Becca had been about the upcoming 20th reunion for the class of 1990. 20th reunions were held every year for the respective classes and Mallory had been involved in the organisation of them for the past two years. This year was the year of the BSC, the year where Mallory would see all the girls who were once so important to her.

It was also the first reunion since the death of Jessi. Mallory had been talking to Becca about the charitable trust and it had been agreed that Jessi's Everlasting Dance would announce it's first ever sponsor programme at SMS, a programme where specialist teachers would come in to deliver classes twice a week to promising young dancers who couldn't afford to attend ballet school.

It was to be announced at the reunion of the class of 1990, before being announced to the school.

They may have been in a different grade, but the class of 1990 would remember Jessi.

It seemed fitting.


	10. Chapter 10

_My word, this has been a long time coming. Here is Chapter 10 to set the scene. It's only upon re-reading that I've noticed some typos in the other chapters - I will fix these soon! I will finish this story; it's just taking 5 years longer than expected. Enjoy =)_

**Chapter 10**

Stoneybrook Middle School stood proud on that dusky evening. Usually closed and locked up for the evening, lights shone through the windows. Inside moved the shadows of the people within.

The school gym had been thoughtfully prepared for the evening. Circular tables surrounded by groups of chairs were arranged around a shining dance floor in front of the stage. A passageway divided the way and it was from this to the doors of the gym that a red carpet ran. The invitations had stated "smart-casual" in terms of dress, but the organisers knew that every year, some people would push the boat out, wanting to show their former peers how well they were doing, how they wanted to show what they had become.

A sign hung over the stage, stating "Welcome, class of 1990!" A piano and microphones were placed on the stage, an indicator of the dancing to come.

A fancy flower arrangement graced each table, along with a golden envelope. Anxious waiters, smartly dressed in their dress-shirts and black trousers checked that he cutlery for the meal was in place; that each table was as perfect as possible. Fancy name cards stood at each place and Alice, the school secretary stood at the end of the carpet, ready to greet the guests and show them to their tables.

A make-shift bar had been set up toward the side of the room. It was from here that Mallory Pike grabbed a small brandy to settle her nerves as she moved towards her office to make a final check of the plans for that evening. She paused to glance in a mirror, her red hair fastened in a simple French twist, a plain but elegant green wrap dress complementing her auburn locks and she stood tall in a beautiful pair of nude coloured high heels. She wiped away a speck of mascara and gave herself a nervous nod of approval as she slipped into her office.

She could hear in the distance the sound of strings as the band tuned up. Outside there was the quiet growl of a car drawing up.

The first guest had arrived.


End file.
